


old frenemies

by fluffysfics



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Clara has the brain cell, Comedy, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, the Master’s time on Earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26650921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics
Summary: Stranded on Earth in 1969, the Master is lonely, in need of a friend. And then...who should show up but Clara Oswald?
Relationships: The Master (Dhawan) & Clara Oswald, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63





	old frenemies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Valc0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valc0/gifts).



> thank you so much to ValCo for the idea for this, and letting me write it!!

After twenty six years on Earth, the Master was growing quite used to running into random associates of the Doctor’s. He tended to avoid them, just so he wasn’t tempted to commit any murders, or irrevocably explode any timelines. 

And fine, maybe he sometimes tempted fate by hanging around places where the Doctor might be, but he didn’t think he could be blamed for that. This regeneration had a masochistic streak a mile wide; he had to indulge himself _somehow_. 

Coal Hill School wasn’t a place he’d bothered visiting for a while. Five or six years ago, he could have seen the Doctor there- picking up his granddaughter, the one going by the wrong name, the one whom he’d held as a baby, still felt some _ridiculous_ attachment to, even though he had no _right_ -

It was during a sour fog of thoughts like that, spawned from a walk that had somehow accidentally taken him directly past Coal Hill, when he bumped right into Clara Oswald. 

It took him a second to recognise her. She’d dressed for the period, her hair cut with a fringe and curled at the ends, wearing the sort of short striped dress that so many young women seemed to be fond of recently. Hers hurt his eyes a bit less than most people‘s; there was a blessed lack of _orange_ in it. 

“Watch your step,” she said, frowning at him. Then, a moment later- “Oi. You’re starin’, mate. Go on. Off you pop, nothing to see here.” 

“Clara?” 

That got her attention. The frown faded, replaced by surprise, then _suspicion_ , and the Master remembered why he’d picked this one for the Doctor. She was just like them- so quick witted and clever, full of charm and arrogance and overconfidence. A beautiful, _beautiful_ mess. 

“That’s me,” she said, taking a couple of cautious steps towards him. “And _you_...you look familiar. Got a name I can put to that _very_ handsome face?” 

What was Clara Oswald doing here? The Master knew that something had happened to her. Back when he’d been Missy, in the Vault, the Doctor had barely been able to remember her. It had caused him so much pain, at the time, so much hurt, and all Missy had been able to do was rest a confused hand on his shoulder and repeat that she was sure that Clara was fine, dearie, she’s a very resourceful girl. 

And now here she was, in 1969, casual as anything. 

“You can call me the Master,” he said, because why not? Might as well have a bit of fun with one of maybe three of the Doctor’s companions he’d ever liked. 

“ _Oh_!” Her face lit up- she snapped her fingers, doing a delighted little dance on the spot. “I knew it. Yeah- you think you’re so clever, that whole _O_ thing- didn’t have me fooled for a second. You’re after Missy, right? She turned into you? Did you steal my eyes just so the Doctor would like you more?” 

The Master blinked. There was a lot to process in that tirade of questions, and he was not doing it outside of Coal Hill. It was almost 3pm, anyway; the kids would be out soon, and the last thing he needed was this potentially very interesting confrontation being swamped by twelve year olds. 

“Not here,” he snapped, grabbing Clara’s arm and steering her hastily away from the school. She looked like she wanted to protest, but he glared at her, and she rolled her eyes and shrugged. She did, however, prise his fingers away from her shoulder, and instead linked their arms like they were out on a date. 

“Still want an answer to my eyes question,” she said, her voice low. 

“I don’t _know_ ,” he snapped. “Didn’t have much control over this regeneration. Or- _any_ control, actually.” 

“Ooh...why?” 

“Long fucking story.” 

Clara stopped abruptly, right in the middle of the street, and then dragged him over to sit down in front of a small café. “Stay,” she said firmly. “I’m getting coffee.” 

“What-“

“ _Stay_.”

The Master stayed. 

Five minutes later, she came back, and set a cup down in front of him. 

“Extra strong. If you’re anything like the Doctor, figured that’s what you’d want.” 

She was right, but that didn’t mean he had to admit it. The Master huffed, picking up his cup and taking a sip. “Tolerable,” he conceded. 

“Good.” Clara sat back in her chair, legs crossed, eyeing him with a piercing gaze. The Master was reminded of a different meeting in a café, with the shadow of a frozen plane hanging overhead. He stared her down, and she stared him down, looking remarkably calm for someone who’d just unexpectedly bumped into an old enemy. Frenemy?

Regardless of what their relationship was, _he_ was bursting to ask questions. 

“What are you doing here?” He sat forwards, setting the coffee cup down and resting both hands on the table. “Why do you know about O? What happened to you? The Doctor didn’t remember you last time I asked. What did you do to them?” 

She scoffed. “I didn’t do anythin’! He did it to himself. Kind of. Look- it’s none of your business.” Clara folded her arms. “If you must know, I’ve been travelling. A... _thing_ happened. Kind of a bad thing. And now I’m immortal. Well- actually, I’m almost dead. Feel.” She stuck her wrist out. The Master laid his fingers against it- no pulse. 

Hang on a second. 

“That’s Time Lord technology,” he accused. “Taking someone out of their timeline in their last heartbeat, and, and- preserving them. But it’s not supposed to _last_.” 

“Yeah, I’m supposed to go back to Gallifrey and die. Or- I was supposed to. Few thousand years ago. But I had a TARDIS, so-“

“ _Where_?” Suddenly, all trace of civility was gone; the Master stood bolt upright, gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white, every nerve in his body buzzing at the prospect of _escape_. 

“It’s not here, Me’s got it,” Clara said, looking a little taken aback. 

“You? Me? What- where’s the TARDIS,” he said, scowling. Come on. She must have it. She could get him out of here. Please, let him be able to get out of here. 

“Me. Lady Me, Ashildr, whatever. She’s not here- will you sit down? Everyone’s lookin’ at you.” 

The Master sat down with a bump. He still didn’t have the first clue who this _Me_ character was, but clearly there was no TARDIS here. No immediate prospect of escape. He scrubbed his hands across his face, pressing his eyes tight shut. Self control, come on, he was famous for that. Don’t let anger get the better of him _now_. 

“You still didn’t tell me why you know about O,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Would have thought that would be obvious,” Clara said. The Master resisted the urge to hit something, and waited not-very-patiently for her to continue. “The Doctor’s my best friend. I couldn’t not check up on ‘em. On _her_ , now. Can’t believe I missed travelling with her, she’s _pretty_.” 

“She is,” the Master agreed, slightly too fast. 

“So the whole being-madly-in-love thing wasn’t just Missy, then?” Clara tilted her head, looking for all the world like a blackbird who’d just spotted a particularly juicy worm. The Master did _not_ enjoy being the worm. 

He glared at her, which was apparently answer enough. 

“I knew it,” she said smugly. “Anyway- I’ve been keeping an eye on the Doctor, so of course I know all about you. O. She talked about you all the time. To anyone who would listen. And I mean it, _anyone_.” 

The Master sat back in his chair, and tried to ignore the smug, possessive feeling he got from hearing that. She didn’t care. The Doctor could never care like he cared. He _had_ to remember that. 

“You look like someone just fed you a lemon,” Clara observed. “Okay, your turn. Why are you skulking around on Earth? I mean, I get that skulking’s kind of your thing, but- come on. There are better places to do it.” 

“Because I’m _fucking_ trapped here!” He didn’t mean to snap. Honestly. But he slammed his fist against the table so hard that their coffee cups bounced, and even Clara flinched in surprise at the sudden burst of anger. Ever quick to recover, she sat forward a moment later. 

“Trapped? What does that mean?” 

“It means,” the Master said, his voice low and _dangerous_ , “that your precious best friend left me in the hands of the fucking _Nazis_ twenty six years ago, and now I’m stuck here until 2020.” 

Clara sat back, and for a long moment, she didn’t say a word. She looked...troubled. He’d half been expecting her to leap instantly to the Doctor’s defence with the same blind loyalty that all companions seemed to have, but apparently not. Good. 

“I didn’t know that,” she said eventually. “I’m sorry.” 

An _apology_? The Master didn’t know how to take that. Most responses, the appropriate action would have been ‘get angry’. But an apology was infuriatingly disarming. 

“Yeah, well. I’m the one who’s still in love with her even after that, so more fool me, I guess.” He shook his head, hands flying up to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt. He was terrible at staying still under pressure, and this felt like one of the _worst_ kinds of pressure. He had no power here. 

“Y’know- the Doctor said something to me once.” Clara rested her elbows on the table, hands folded in front of her. “You killed my boyfriend. And the Doctor used a sleep patch on me- put me in a dream where I thought I was throwing all his TARDIS keys into a volcano. I really thought I’d stranded us, I felt terrible, I had no idea how he could go on liking me. And he said- he said, ‘do you think I care about you so little that betraying me would make a difference?’ And I still don’t know if he was right to say that. It probably should have made a difference, but...it didn’t to him. Hearts are funny like that. Yours aren’t an exception.” 

Had this human always sounded so wise? Probably not. She had mentioned thousands of years, earlier. Lifetimes upon lifetimes of travelling the stars did tend to grant a person a little wisdom. 

The Master sighed, burying his face in his hands. “I know,” he said softly. “I know. Believe me, Clara, I know I’m not special.” 

“Oi. That’s not what I said,” she objected. “What _happened_ to you? Missy was so confident.” 

“I learned something,” the Master said flatly. “The Time Lords lied to us all. I...I had to burn Gallifrey, the whole planet. I _had_ to. You’d understand, if you knew what I’d found. You of all people would understand. But I can’t- I can’t tell you. Can’t tell _anyone_. I’m saving it for the Doctor. I want to see her face when I say it all. I want her to feel how I feel, for _once_ in her lives.” 

“And you think that’ll make it better? How much it hurt you when she stranded you here?” 

The Master gritted his teeth. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I have to try.” One hand moved to drum against the table, the other picking up his now-distinctly-lukewarm coffee. 

“I wouldn’t tell her, you know.” Clara pressed one of her hands against his. The Master stopped drumming. “I wouldn’t tell the Doctor, if you told me what the Time Lords did. If you need an ear.” 

Her hand was colder than any living human skin had a right to be. The coffee she’d been holding had given it a lingering warmth, but that was fast draining away. He stared at their hands for a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip. 

“No.” The Master pulled away. “I can’t tell you.” 

Clara pulled a face that was clearly a pout, but that was trying very hard to be something a bit more grown-up. 

“Fine,” she said. “Keep your secrets. But I’ll be back.” She pointed her finger at him. “I like you. Always have done, actually. You’re a lot like the Doctor, but a bit less moral, and...prettier, sometimes. Think you might be about equal this time around, in that department.” 

The Master didn’t quite know what to say to that. He wondered if the Doctor encouraged this kind of shameless flirting from companions. Honestly, she _shouldn’t_. But she always had loved the attention. 

Clara pulled a pen out of a dress pocket he hadn’t even noticed until then, and grabbed his hand, scrawling a phone number onto the back of it. “I’m coming back to see you anyway. But if you ever want some company before then, call me. I can be around.” 

She patted his hand, then let it drop, and rested her hand on his shoulder instead. “You’re going to be _fine_. You and the Doctor, I know you’ve got all your games, and your fighting, but- stick it out. She cares about you, and you care about her. God only knows if it’s healthy at this point, but I know it’s _true_.” 

Before the Master could say a word, she squeezed his shoulder, and darted off down the street, leaving him alone with two half-drunk cups of coffee and a phone number scrawled on his hand. 

He stared at the number, and sighed. Maybe he was getting too old for this. Maybe he should have retired to a nice empty planet years ago now, and be spending his time _farming_ or something. Because now, he was seriously considering writing this number down somewhere more permanent and keeping a human, one of the _Doctor’s_ humans, as a confidant. 

This was going to end poorly. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would be the start of the best thing to ever happen to his miserable life on Earth. 

Either way...what did he have to lose? 

**Author's Note:**

> I...May write more fics and make this a series, maybe.......anyway- hope y’all enjoyed!! comments and kudos are very much appreciated as always <3


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